Fire and Water
by blackblade2
Summary: Second in the Truth Is Stranger Than Fiction series, sequel to First Adventure. Kat and her friends go away to summer camp for two weeks, and trouble follows them. Rating likely to change soon.
1. Camp

A/N:Hi again! This is the sequel to First Adventure. If you've read that,  
thanks for coming back! If you haven't read that, you really need to do  
so first before starting this one. I'm not so much promoting my own   
writing as warning you that if you read this without the first one,  
you'll be pretty lost, because I deviate significantly from traditional  
Highlander stuff. Have fun!  
Note to Steve-O, Peaches, Patches, Ravioli, and the gang: If you read this, you may   
recognize some things...winks...I'm just using it for base ideas.   
So don't worry, I've changed everyone's real names.

* * *

"What're you reading?" I asked Alex.   
She held up the small paperback book so I could see the cover: Lord   
of the Flies.   
"Summer schoolwork," she explained with a miserable expression.   
"You're bringing homework?" I demanded. "Are you crazy?"   
She shrugged.   
"I have to finish it."   
I made a face.   
"Oh well," I said, "At least you got a good book."   
Alex looked stunned.   
"Did you just call this good?"   
I nodded.   
"Yeah! You mean you don't like it?"   
"It's horrible!" she said. "The things they do to each other…" She   
shook her head. "Ugh."   
Amy, who had been watching us, grinned at her reaction, then raised   
an eyebrow.   
"Please don't tell me I have to listen to you two argue…"   
I grinned right back.   
"Hopefully not. Close your ears."   
We were stuffed into the backseat of my mom's car, on the way   
north for two weeks at Camp Meneebuggees, as we called it. I barely   
even remembered the real name, we'd called it that for so long. It   
was a great place, if you didn't count the mosquito-breeding lake it   
sat on. This particular summer, we were taking a week-long trip to   
Florida - spending the first week in camp, learning to snorkel, going   
over safety precautions, and planning meals, then taking off to spend   
the second week in the Keys.   
"Yeah. Right."   
Amy went back to writing in her green-velvet-covered journal, and   
Alex went back to her book. I was digging through my backpack for   
my headphones when Alex poked me.   
"Huh?" I asked, looking up.   
"Do you have your sword?" she mouthed at me.   
"Worrywart," I mouthed back, teasing. "And yes." I had taken a bike   
ride one afternoon to a couple of local antique stores (at least, that's   
what the signs claimed - I would have called them junque stores), and   
eventually found an old sword. When the shop owner asked why I   
wanted a sword, I claimed my dad was a collector, and it was a   
birthday present. Never mind that my dad was nothing of the sort.   
I had then gone and asked Duncan's opinion of my new-old blade. He   
told me it wasn't the world's best, but wasn't exactly scrap metal  
either, and that for one afternoon on a bike, it wasn't a bad find.   
It was fairly plain - the blade was straight, double-edged steel, the   
hilt and crossbar smooth with a tiny ivy pattern etched in. The   
scabbard, once I cleaned off what seemed to be decades of tarnish,   
proved to be simple and functional. The only odd thing about it,   
Duncan said, was that it was completely unmarked. No maker's initials   
anywhere, not even a year.   
That didn't make a difference to me, though, not being very   
knowledgeable on old things. All I cared about was having something   
to hand that could possibly keep me from getting my head chopped   
off. If, of course, I knew how to use it - after carefully inspecting   
my find, Duncan had handed it back to me and proceeded to teach me   
some basic blocks and strikes. I had practiced all I could since then,   
but was very aware that I was still distinctly lacking in those skills   
essential to keeping me working together with my head.   
Alex grinned sheepishly.   
"Sorry," she said. "I just want you to come home with your head   
intact, ok?"   
"Sounds good to me too," I agreed with a nod, and Alex opened her   
book once more. I dug up my CD player and hooked the headphones   
over my ears, leaning back against the seat and closing my eyes. I   
mentally sang along as the music started.   
"Everybody's thinking they're so hot tonight,   
But there's a fire in your eyes…"   
That line reminded me of something, and I thought back three   
weeks to the day Duncan had told us we were mages…

* * *

"So how do we find out what our own powers are?" I asked him.   
"Well, we already know you're a fire mage," he replied with a grin.   
"Past that, I can use a spell to look at your magical self and see what   
type of abilities you have, but not yet."   
"Why not?"   
"You have to gain some control over your energy first - otherwise   
it's not safe. If you were to lose control while I was in direct contact   
with your power center, it could do significant damage to both of us."   
"Makes sense," I said.   
Amy looked puzzled.   
"How can we gain control of our power if we don't know what to   
control?"   
"Because there's a difference," Duncan explained, "between   
controlling your energy and controlling your abilities. You must be   
able to control your energy before you can use whatever abilities you   
have."   
"Oh. And how do we do that?"   
Duncan gestured, and the ball of magenta fire that had been in his   
palm a few minutes before reappeared.   
"When you can call up something like this on your own, you'll have   
enough control to be safe. But obviously, I have to teach you how."   
He turned to Amy. "I can help you the first time, just so you get the   
feel of it. Then it will be easier to practice on your own. You,   
however," he continued, turning to look at me, "will have to do this   
yourself. I can talk you though it, but I can't actually help you."   
"Why not?" I asked, puzzled. "Are fire mages that dangerous?"   
"Only to me," Duncan answered with a rueful smile. "I'm a water   
mage. Our energies won't get along well."   
With Duncan's assistance, Amy managed to get a slight glow going   
around her hands - not enough to tell yet what color power she had,   
but enough to know it was definitely there if she could get to it.   
Duncan had the talked me through what I needed to know to find   
my power, but nothing happened. He told me that that was normal,   
that it would probably be a while before I got anything at all.   
"Just don't stop trying," he said finally. "It's frustrating, but it will   
happen. Probably at the most inopportune moment," he added with a   
wry grin.   
Amy and I both promised we'd keep working on it, and Alex told us   
jokingly that if we didn't, we'd both be in trouble.

* * *

I grinned at the memory of Alex's threat and turned to look out the   
window. I recognized where we were, which was less than five   
minutes form the camp.  
"Hey guys," I said, elbowing both my friends simultaneously. "Get   
ready, we're almost there!"   
"Woohoo!" said Amy, shutting her journal and stuffing it back in her   
bag. "I am so ready to go somewhere."   
"Me too," agreed Alex, stashing her book away. "I need a vacation."   
We drove by a sign announcing, "Lower camp entrance - please   
proceed to upper entrance."   
Mom drove up the hill, following the packed-dirt road to the upper   
access road of Camp Buggee.   
Half an hour later, we had checked in, dropped off our bags, and   
claimed bunks.   
"Bye mom," I aid giving her a hug.   
"Have fun, honey," she told me. "See you in two weeks!"   
"See you!"   
We all waved as she turned and walked back to the parking lot,   
leaving us to two weeks of counselors, other girls, traveling,   
exploring, swimming, mosquitoes, and countless other adventures.   
Amy's right, I thought to myself. I'm ready to go somewhere! 


	2. Off We Go

After spending two nights in a cabin, we had packed up our stuff again and trudged down through the woods to the dining hall, where we were going to spend our last night in camp. We re-packed our bags, taking only what we needed for a week in hot weather, and stored the rest in the basement.  
  
"Come on girls, lights are going out," called Shara, the youngest of the counselors. She was black and had a beautiful smile and great sense of humor. She also had a belly-button ring, which fascinated several of us.  
  
Unfortunately for Shara tonight, we had found both a bowl of sugar and a bottle of honey, and for some strange reason were no longer tired. Or maybe we were over-tired - it was hard to tell the difference. But in either case, we were definitely over-sugared.   
  
I heard a startled "eeeep!" from one of the girls a few yards away as someone else started tickling her. Tall, muscular, blonde hair...what was her name again? I couldn't remember - I'd always had a terrible memory for names.   
  
"That's Candy," Amy hissed in my ear, seeing my puzzled expression.  
  
"Oh. Thanks," I said.   
  
"Well, actually," she continued, "It's really Casey, but it's like Rita and Pam..."  
  
"Right." She was referring to one of those name-games that all camps make you play when you arrive. You know the kind - basically they're a chance to show off how bad you really are with names, while tossing a ball around or something like that. This particular game had involved coming up with foods that started with the same letter as our names. For some people though, the foods had stuck and the names hadn't. So instead of Casey, Rita, and Pam, we had Candy, Ravioli, and Peaches...  
  
My thoughts were interrupted by a sudden yell of, "Incoming!" I ducked to the floor just as a chocolate cookie flew over my head, hitting the wall behind me and shattering on impact. Amy and I looked at each other, and wordlessly agreed that it was time to get out of the way. Maybe bed wasn't such a bad idea after all.  
  
* * *   
  
"Kat." I rolled over and tried to stay asleep. Yeah right. We all know how well that works. "Hey Kat."   
  
"Uh."  
  
"Get up."  
  
"Uh?"  
  
"Up. Out of bed."  
  
"Nuh uh."  
  
Whoever was talking to me picked up my alarm clock, which I only now noticed was beeping, and held it in front of my face.  
  
"Turn this off."  
  
I poked it, and it shut up.  
  
"Thanks. Now get up."  
  
"Nnn..."  
  
I was forced out of sleep when something heavy landed on me. I looked up to see Alex sitting on me.  
  
"Come on Kat! Time to go!"  
  
I looked around.  
  
"What the - it's still dark outside."  
  
"It usually is at 3am."  
  
3am? Oh. My brain slowly started itself. I'm going to Florida today...  
  
"Right." I tried to roll over and couldn't. "Geroff," I mumbled. "I'm up already."  
  
She hopped off, and I got up a little more slowly, then just stood there. My brain seemed to have shut off again. I looked around, hoping for a clue...sleeping bag - dining hall - backpack - traveling bag. Hm. Um...  
  
*Must brush teeth* something told me. Ok, fine.  
  
A few minutes I was reasonably awake, although not necessarily happy about it. I stuffed my book and a bagel into my backback, my sleeping bag into my check-bag, and followed everyone else as they crammed their stuff into two passenger vans.  
  
An hour later, the driver and I were the only ones awake as the sun rose over the distant city. I had my headphones on, and something raucous in my CD player, hence my remarkably alert expression. Alert being, in this case, sitting up straight with eyes mostly open.  
  
Actually, I can't give the music all the credit - I was sitting up straight because lying down when you've got a sword strapped to your side isn't very comfortable. Nobody but my friends and I knew it was there, of course. Duncan had proved himself very helpful in that respect...  
  
* * *   
  
"Now, you're taking that with you, right?" he asked me when I told him I was going.  
  
"I can't," I said reluctantly. "I'm going on an airplane."  
  
Duncan grinned.  
  
"You have no imagination," he informed me, bending over to pick something up from the ground. He held it in his hand for several moments, just staring at it. I was about to ask him what he meant when he held out his hand. "Here."  
  
I held out my own hand, and he dropped a small pebble into it.   
  
"What -" I started, and then my hand promptly disappeared. "Ack!" I yanked my arm back, dropping the pebble, as Duncan laughed.  
  
"It's an invisibility amulet," he told me, picking it up again.  
  
"Really," I retorted. "I never would've guessed. Thanks for warning me, man."  
  
He shrugged, leaned over, and dropped it into my scabbard. There was a *whoosh, plink* noise as it slid down and hit the bottom. I watched in amazement as the tip of my scabbard disappeared, and the spell slowly made its way all the way to the top like water soaking into a sponge. Finally all of it was gone, and there the spell stopped. Frowning, I slid the blade that was still in my hand into the scabbard, and it too disappeared as it went, until the even the hilt couldn't be seen.  
  
"Wow," I said. "Cool..." Then I thought of something else. "This will go through airport security and everything?"  
  
Duncan nodded.  
  
"There's a de-materializer in there too," he said.  
  
"Was that supposed to be an explanation?"  
  
He smiled.  
  
"You'll learn about that stuff eventually," he told me. "For now, just trust me. Your magical training hasn't even started yet..."  
  
* * *  
  
I shook my head to clear it as the beginning of the next song startled me out of my thoughts. I knew where we were...  
  
Half an hour, I thought dazedly. Almost there.   
  
But that was just to the airport. Then we still had to get where we were going.  
  
* * *  
  
"No way, my luggage is heavy enough!" I told Monica indignantly a little while later. "I'm not carrying yours too!"   
  
"Beth, please?" she pleaded. I'd forgotten whose brilliant idea it was to call me by my middle name, or at least a nickname for my middle name, but in any case I didn't like it.   
  
"It's Kat," I corrected her automatically. I'd been doing so almost constantly since we arrived at camp. "And no."  
  
Monica was a handful of inches shorter than I was, and a good hundred-and-fifty pounds heavier. She had also ignored the camp's two-bag traveling limit and was struggling towards the airport check-in counter with four. I was determined not to make that, or her, my problem.  
  
A group of 23 people standing in no particular order in a check-in line, with all their bags, takes up quite a bit of space. A surprising amount, really, and the people who walk by don't always see the exact boundaries of the group. As a result, every few minutes we squeezed in tighter as another passerby tripped over whoever's luggage was outermost. Eventually, I was standing with my bag on my feet and several other people's bags squished around me. I was staring at the ceiling when I learned that Little Miss Monica didn't even know her own boundaries, forget those of a group. She forced herself past me to talk to someone, and I tried to step back out of her way, forgetting the bag on the ground behind me. My twenty-something pound backpack didn't help matters as I overbalanced and fell flat on my back over Candy's luggage.  
  
"Whoa, are you ok?" she asked, startled.   
  
"Fine," I answered with a sigh. "But could you give me a hand?" The backpack created that beetle-on-its-back effect so I couldn't get up on my own.  
  
"No prob."  
  
I had to twist sideways to get off her bag as she helped me up, and I'd all but forgotten about the invisible sword at my hip. Speaking of not knowing where your parts are...  
  
"Ouch!" she said suddenly, picking up one foot. "What was that?"  
  
A confused look came over her face as she peered around her feet, trying to figure out what had bitten her. I winced inwardly.   
  
"No idea," I lied, trying to look puzzled while mentally berating myself for being careless. Candy shrugged.  
  
"Oh well, whatever."  
  
Brilliant, I thought as she helped me to my feet. This trip is going to be great, just great... 


	3. Julynn

* * *

MP: It worked! I'm writing sooner this time! And yeah, I wondered about the airport thing too, which is why I attempted to solve it. I'll try to do that when I run across weird stuff like that.  
  
Yume Hikari/Shadow Tamer/Kitty: Yes, you do have too many names! Most definitely! Glad you liked the last chapter. I'm trying to pick up the action, but the layout of this story required more introduction stuff than I would've liked, hence the snail's pace.

* * *

It really is amazing, I thought, how many immortals you sense in an airport. You rarely see who they are, but your head buzzes nearly every ten minutes.  
Every time I felt that creeping sensation, heard the swishing in my head, I looked around uneasily, but only twice did anybody look back. The first was a man in a business suit, who stared at me for a moment, and then gave me a curt nod and went on his way. The second was a small woman with frizzy red-orange hair who was wearing a purple sarong tied sideways into a one-strap dress. She smiled at me and waved, and I couldn't help grinning back - she was one of those infectiously cheerful-looking people.  
"Who's that?" asked Monica, and I quickly turned away form the strange woman. I had, unfortunately, ended up as Monica's "traveling buddy" for the day, which meant that we had to follow each other around the airport. I didn't like having her tailing me, watching my every move, whining at me, but I tried to be nice as long as I was stuck with her. Because once the counselors picked our buddies, it was final. No matter how much you didn't like yours.  
"Erm-" I said, trying to think fast. I wasn't exactly a world-class speed-thinker, though. "She's an, uh, old friend...of my mom's...she lives near here and she travels a lot. For business."   
"Why don't you go say hi?" Monica persisted. "You can introduce me to her. What's her name?"  
Why do you care? I thought, but didn't say it.   
"It's, um -"  
"Julynn," supplied a voice behind me, and I turned around, startled. Amy was standing there, staring thoughtfully at the woman in question, who was now leaning against a pole, eating something and apparently ignoring us. "Her name is Julynn."  
"Right," I said, grateful for the save. "Julynn...yeah. And I don't think the counselors want us wandering off to talk to people. We're going to be boarding soon."  
"Oh." Monica then wandered away to look at something in a store window.  
"Thanks," I told Amy when Monica was out of hearing range. "Where'd you get that name, anyway? I've never heard it before."   
"It's her name," Amy told me. "Her real name."  
"What - do you know her?" I was surprised that any of us would actually run into someone we knew in the airport.  
"No. Just her name."  
I raised an eyebrow.  
"How do you know that?"  
Amy slowly shook her head, and her gaze finally left the red-haired Julynn and came to rest on me. Her eyes were slightly glazed and she looked spaced out.  
"I - I don't know," she said quietly, her eyes wide. "It just is, that's all - I know it - but how..." She trailed off.  
I frowned.  
"Weird. Do you think we should go ask her -"  
"No!" Amy broke in sharply, and I blinked in surprise. "Stay away from her! We can't -" just as suddenly as she had started, she stopped. She looked like she'd suddenly come back down to earth. "What's wrong with me?" she asked, sounding nervous. Just then the overhead announcements blared, interrupting my train of thought - what there had been of it, anyway.  
"Flight number 1042 now boarding passengers in rows 25-40 at gate D6; passengers in rows 25-40 on flight 1042 now boarding at gate D6."  
"That's us," I said. "We can talk about this later," I added as Moncia heaved her way back over to me.  
"Come on Beth," she said, "Shara says we're going now! Let's go!"  
"I know," I said with a sigh. "I'm coming."  
"What's wrong?" she asked picking up on my annoyed tone. "Aren't you happy to be going to Florida?"  
"Yeah, I'm fine, yeah, I'm happy to be going." Just not with you, I added silently.

* * *

"You've never been on a plane before?" I asked, disbelieving. My first time on an airplane had been at six weeks old, and there hadn't been a year since then that I hadn't been on one. It was hard to believe that the girl sitting next to me had never even set foot in one. Ashy, short for Ashly, shook her head.  
"Never. I can't wait to fly!"  
I tried to hide my grin - she was so cute, a 13-year-old girl saying "I'm going to FLY!" like a 2-year-old. A few minutes later she was leaning over me to peer excitedly out the window. "Wow, look at all the guys running around down there! Hey, what're they doing there? What's he doing? The trucks look so small! Is that our luggage?"  
I couldn't help it - I had to laugh. I wasn't tired of flying like a lot of business people were, but I'd seen the little people on the ground so many times that it just didn't strike me as so fascinating anymore. At that moment, the gangway was rolled away from the side of the plane and we taxied backwards toward the travel roads, then forward towards the runway.  
"We're going fast!" commented the breathless voice next to me. "Is this as fast as it goes?"  
I gave her an incredulous look.  
"You've got to be kidding. We're not even on the runway yet - this is like cruising through a parking lot in a car!"  
"Really? Does it go a lot faster?"  
I grinned.  
"Oh yeah. Heck, we have to get this whole rig off the ground! Planes go at about 500 miles per hour, you know."  
"Are you serious?!"  
"M hm. If you don't get motion sick, look out the window when we take off. That'll give you some idea."  
"I don't get sick! I'm not scared! This is fun!"  
"Ok then."  
The girl in the seat in front of me, Tasha, turned around and winked at me through the crack between the seatbacks, and I grinned back. Ashy was nearly the only entertainment I needed on the flight - she was fascinated by watching the cities on the ground, the clouds, the flight attendants serving drinks, the whole deal - even the flight magazine, which I couldn't understand.  
"I've got a book," I offered at one point.  
"No, this is cool," she said. "Look at this, they sell stuff in here!"  
At that point I just shook my head and dug out my CD player. Entertaining as it was, I could only take so much.

* * *

Julynn, I noticed, was on the flight with us - the only other immortal I could sense aside from my friends, for which I was grateful. I wondered if she, too, was going for a vacation in the Keys. She was certainly dressed for it.  
I found out a few minutes later, when I passed by her on the way back from the bathroom and she invited me to sit down in the empty seat next to her. Glancing around, I made sure the counselors weren't watching me. Lona glanced at me momentarily, then went back to her book, her short blonde hair swinging in her face. I sat down.  
"Hello," the small woman greeted me. "I'm Julynn. What's your name?"  
"Kat," I answered. From this distance, I could now see that her eyes were a brilliant emerald green.  
"Are you vacationing in Florida?" she asked, seeming genuinely curious.  
"Sort of," I replied. "It's a camp trip, which is a bit busy to call a vacation..."  
She grinned.  
"I used to camp a lot. Are you actually camping out, or are you staying indoors somewhere?"  
I thought about that for a minute, and then was forced to say, "I don't really know. I don't think we're camping out, but I'm not sure about that."  
"Where are you going?"  
"Down to the Keys."  
She looked surprised.  
"Really? That's where I live!"  
"Huh, funny coincidence," I agreed. I was beginning to wonder why she had wanted to talk to me, and she must have seen it in my face.  
"You look confused," she told me.  
"Do I?"  
She nodded. "Are you wondering why I'm being so nice?"  
I paused. Well, I figured, Why not be honest?  
"Er, yeah. Now that you mention it."  
"Well, basically -" she paused, glanced around, and leaned closer to me before continuing "- I'm tired of the way we live, and I'm doing my part to teach our kind to be friendly." She leaned back again, smiling at me. "Think of me as a really old flower child."  
I nodded. That wouldn't be too hard.  
"Sounds reasonable."  
She looked at me appraisingly for a moment before a moment before asking, "How old are you?"  
"Thirteen," I answered, and she looked surprised.  
"Really?" she asked. "Is that your real age, or -" she lowered her voice "- is that what you're telling people?"  
I shook my head.  
"For real, I'm thirteen. I'm new to this whole...business."  
"I'll say." She sighed. "I guess you can't fully understand what I'm after, then."  
I thought about that for a minute. I certainly understood what it meant to kill someone now, but if she meant that I couldn't understand what it was to have lived a lifetime of killing, she had a point there. Finally I sighed, too.  
"I guess not, but I will say that I'm all for less bloodshed, given a chance."  
The bright smile came back to her face.  
"Oh, good!" she said, sounding pleased. She turned to stare out the window for a moment, her gaze distant. I was about to get up and return to my seat so that Ashly wouldn't wonder where I'd gotten to, when Julynn turned back to me. "And what about your friend?" she asked.  
"Oh, Amy?"  
"If that's her name, yes. The one with the beautiful long hair."  
"Yeah, that's Amy. Um, what about her?"  
"Does she share your wish for peace?" Julynn's cheerful smile was gone, replaced by a penetrating stare that quickly made me uncomfortable. I felt like she could see everything I was thinking, and was just waiting for me to try to tell her a lie.  
"Erm, I think so," I said. "I mean, she's not a violent person...she did kill a man, but she was trying to save me. I wouldn't say she enjoyed it..." I trailed off, suddenly unsure of what point I was trying to make.  
The woman nodded, seemingly satisfied, and I took the opportunity to say, "Listen, I have to get back before my seat partner sends out a search party. It was nice talking to you...good luck with -" I paused, searching for the right word, and finally settled on "- your goal."  
"Thank you," she said. "Maybe I'll see you again someday."  
"Maybe," I echoed.  
Her smile returned as I left, and once again, I couldn't help smiling back. She just looked so happy. 


	4. Southern Chicken

MP: Amused by that, were you? I'm having fun with this character...  
  
A/N: I goofed in the last chapter with the part about the "North Carolina airport." Kat and the crew are still in their home state up north - the flight they board in chapter 3 is going to NC, not leaving it. I've changed that now, but for those of you who have already read it...here you go, I'm correcting it.  
Also note: I'm not trying to make fun of people with southern accents here - this was something that actually happened to me! And I must apologize for the chapter title - I couldn't resist.

* * *

We reached the North Carolina airport safely - in my case, that meant blessedly free of Monica and ignored by Julynn. We headed off the plane and into the main airport, toting backpacks and pillows, and gathered around Lona, the tall, thin counselor with the short blonde hair.  
"A'right, gi'ls," she said in the accent I hadn't quite identified yet, "Afteh we arroive at the gaite, youw free ta go get food as long as ya taike a buddeh with ya. Weah heading fouw gaite B14."  
As soon as we started walking, Monica found me.  
"Hey, I saw you talking to that lady on the plane," she told me. "The one from the airport, you know, Jenny, Julie...whatver, you know who I mean. What'd she say?"  
I raised a that's-not-your-business eyebrow, but the girl didn't take hints well. Should I say, at all.  
"She said it was nice to see me, asked where I was going, and she hoped she'd see me again."  
"Oh." Fortunately, that seemed to satisfy Monica, and she was miraculously silent until we reached B14. "Beth?" she asked as I dropped my bag gratefully on the floor. As usual, I'd packed too much heavy stuff and my shoulders hurt.  
"Kat."  
She ignored that.  
"Let's go get food."  
"Uh -" The last thing I wanted to do was watch her eat. Airport food is bad enough, why make it worse? "Actually, I'm not hungry. Why don't you ask Johnny and Peaches if you can go with them - I think they're about to go eat." Johnny's real name was Kathleen, but she and Marissa had both turned out to be devoted Jackass fans, and had named themselves Johnny and Steve-O. Not terribly original, but whatever.  
I felt kind of guilty about dumping Monica on Johnny and Peaches, until I remembered that Monica was my buddy for the day. Suddenly I didn't feel so bad about getting rid of her for ten or fifteen minutes.  
"Hey Alex," I said as soon as the three of them were gone, "You want to go get something to eat?"  
"Sure. Where's Amy?"  
"Over there. Hey Amy!" I called.  
"Yeah?"  
"We're going to get food, wanna come?"  
"Ok."  
Even though it was only 10:30 in the morning, I was starving - breakfast had been at 3:00am, and those silly little pretzel bags you get on airplanes are useless for dealing with hunger. I think they're more for entertainment, myself - you know, to keep the passengers occupied so they won't bug the flight attendants.

* * *

By the time we finished our food, got back to the gate, and dug out books to read, it was time to board the next flight - or so said the clock. The voice on the overheard announcement disagreed:  
"Flight 921 has been delayed due to mechanical problems and should begin boarding in twenty minutes. Thank you for your patience."  
I made a face as everyone around us grumbled, then settled back into my book. At least it's only twenty minutes, I thought. It could be a lot worse.  
Twenty minutes later the loudspeaker came on again.  
"We are sorry, but flight 921 is delayed until 12:15pm due to mechanical problems. Thank you for your patience."  
Looking at the faces of the people who had grumbled at the first delay, I wondered if there was enough patience left to justify thanks. With a sigh, I shifted position and went back to my book again.  
At 12:15, we heard from the tinny voice a third time.  
"We're sorry, folks, but flight 921 has been cancelled. To be put on another flight, please go to the check-in counter."  
This time it was me that groaned.   
"Fricking airports," muttered sombody nearby.  
"Our flight was cancelled!" I heard somebody say in alarm, definitely someone from our camp group. "Now what are we going to do? We're going to have to sleep in the airport!"  
I had to grin at that.  
"No we're not," I heard Amy say. "They're just going to put us on a later flight, that's -"  
"I don't have my pajamas!" somebody said.  
"My toothbrush is in my suitcase!" added yet another panicked voice. "I can't believe this."  
Amy and I exchanged looks, and I heard Alex snorting behind me.  
"Listen you guys," she tried to say. "There's no way we'll be here more than a few hours, it's too early in the day to be worried about spending the night -" But nobody heard her.  
I went back to my book yet again as Leyla, the oldest of the counselors, joined the large line forming in front of the counter to try to get us on another flight.

* * *

By 1:30 we were on another flight. It was destined for Fort Lauderdale instead of Miami, and we were all split up because we hadn't reserved seats, but at least we were finally on our way. The lady sitting on my left was knitting something, and only looked up once during the entire flight, to accept a glass of water from the drink cart. The lady on my right was reading a book, but seemed more aware of the world around her than the other woman. I was making a knotted bracelet in different colors of purple, and she seemed interested in how I was doing it. I showed her, and when she seemed to get the idea, she went back to her book and I put on my headphones and listened to music for the rest of the flight.  
About twenty minutes before the end of the flight, I finished the bracelet and put it away in my bag, digging out a new CD in the process. Just as I was sitting up again, we hit a patch of turbulence and the fasten seat belt sign came on. I'd flown a lot in my life, but this was turbulence like I'd never felt before - it was like a carnival ride. I felt like I was going to hit the ceiling, and I could see the heads of all the other passengers bobbing violently up and down. I nearly dropped my CD player and the lady on my right fumbled with her book. A couple of little kids started to shriek, in fear or excitement I couldn't tell. Several times I felt completely weightless and had to grab onto the arms of my seat to reassure myself I was still, in fact, sitting down. The most amazing thing, though, was the knitting lady - she acted as if nothing was happening. She never dropped her knitting or even paused, never reached for the arms of her chair, never even looked up. After a while I couldn't help just staring at her, and I wasn't surprised when she didn't notice that, either.  
Eventually the turbulence ended, though, and we landed and were shunted down the gangway into the third aiport of the day. Our group, like an animated blob, headed down one hallway after another, following the signs for baggage claim. I retrieved my big black bag when it eventually came around, then stood back to wait for everyone else. As Monica was pulling her third piece of luggage off the conveyor belt, she turned to me.  
"No," I said as she opened her mouth. "This bag is heavy enough as it is." I lifted the black beast to demonstrate.  
"You're strong, Beth, pl-"  
"Hey Peaches," I called, a little louder than was entirely necessary. "Was that your bag that just went by?"  
She glanced up, brushing her thick, fly-away bangs out of her eyes.  
"Oh - yeah!" she said, and hurried after it through the crowd.  
After much waiting, sweating, and impatience, we finally got all our luggage and made it outside to the taxi area.  
"The vans should be here any minute," Leyla told us. They'd had to change the rentals at the last minute, because we'd had pre-rented vans in Miami before the flight to said city was cancelled.  
We crossed two taxi lanes to reach a bus stop and dropped our bags. Most of us then sat down on the bags. Since my bag was wider than hers, Amy came and shared mine.  
"So what'd Julynn want?" she asked curiously. "I saw you talking to her on the plane."  
I told her everything Julynn had said, and when I was done, Amy made a face.  
"Weird," she commented. I nodded.  
"But funny. You know, I kinda like her."

* * *

Half an hour later, two white vans finally showed up. I noticed with some chagrin that they were both of the 11-passenger variety. The vans we'd gotten out of camp in that morning had been bigger, and we'd still barely fit with all our luggage. How on earth were we supposed to cram ourselves into these?  
It wasn't long before I got my answer...  
"All right, girls in the back row in first, take your backpacks with you, then we'll pass these bags back to you." We did as we were told, with some difficulty getting the backpacks through the narrow space between seats. I was on the far right of the back row, against the window. Several bags were squished on top of us, and then the next row of seats was filled. They got bags too, and then the front row...it was then I realized that our holding these bags on our laps wasn't temporary.  
No, I thought, They can't do this to us.  
But they did. It took longer than I'd like to think about to get us all stuffed in, and by the time we were finished, I was jealous of all the freedom of movement enjoyed by canned sardines. My pillow was under my feet, my backpack was on top of them, and I had somebody's really heavy bag on my lap, which came all the way up to eye level so I could barely see over it. It was a good thing I'd kept my CD player out of my bag, because there was no way I could reach my backpack without pulling any muscles.  
"This is great," said Johnny, who was sitting on my left. "If we crash or something, we're all gonna die, 'cause there's no way we're getting out of here."  
The scary thing was, she was right.  
I had just managed to resign myself to being immobile for the next three hours, when we stopped at a gas station. Shara pulled open one of the doors and yelled, "Ok, fire drill! Everyone out as fast as you can!"  
"What?" I protested, as did several other girls. There was a chorus of "You've gotta be kidding," "You're crazy," "Are you outta your mind?" But she made us do it anyway. Of course, all it proved was that if there was really a fire, we were all very dead.  
As soon as we were out, we had to get back in again. We crammed ourselves into the back and got the luggage dumped on us. There was no hope of finding my seatbelt in that mess, but I was wedged so tightly I figured I didn't need it anway.  
"Everybody buckled in?" called Bet, who was driving.  
Johnny and I exchanged a look - she had the same issue I did. We laughed.  
"Yeah!" we called together.  
"Or close enough," I added quietly.  
Fifteen minutes after that, we stopped again.  
"Lunch!" called Shara.  
"Can we stay here?" we started begging. "We won't make a mess, we promise..."  
"Sorry," she said, "No eating in the vans. Out."  
By that time we were starting to invent a faster method of getting out: first row gets out, as they don't have to be buried under luggage. Then the second row dumps their luggage on the first row seat, gets out, and so on.   
Finally we were all clear of the vans, and I took the opportunity to look around. I'd never been "down south" in the US, and while Florida wasn't really deep south, it was certainly the closest I'd ever gotten. It was hot, humid, and smoggy, my least favorite kind of weather, but at least it was sunny. There was grass growing through cracks in the pavement, and palm trees here and there that rustled in the slight breeze. The sidewalks were crumbling, and things had a sort of lazy, dusty look about them - the cars, the houses, the people, everything.  
We went inside the restaurant, which was some sort of fried chicken shack, and lined up to order. I was startled when I looked at the lady behind the counter - she was a darker shade of black than I'd ever seen. Most black people I'd seen, when I thought about it, were really brown - but this lady was very close to really being black. I tried not to stare as I told her what I wanted.  
"Fried chicken wings, please."  
"Ya want that hatamah?"  
"What?"  
"Hatamah?" I had no idea what she was saying, but I didn't want to ask again, so I took a guess.  
"Um, hat?"  
"Ok. Next!" I wondered what I'd just ordered - hopefully not something horrible.  
I figured it out when I got my plate of chicken and started eating.  
"Wow, this is spicy," I commented. "Good thing I like spicy food, 'cause I didn't order it spicy -" I cut myself off when I realized that I actually had done just that.   
Hatamah, I repeated in my mind, and suddenly wanted to kick myself. The lady had been saying 'hot or mild.' My guess of 'hat' had gotten me spicy chicken.  
Well, this is an experience already, I thought. And we're not even there yet! 


End file.
